


Poached Eggs, Of Course

by superrich



Series: What Happens on Hiatus [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 11:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6327148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superrich/pseuds/superrich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Where are you Niall Horan?” Nick Grimshaw cuts in loudly. “We miss you! And by we, I mean the nation. But this one especially,” he says, poking Harry in the ribs with his free hand. “I mean, I could take you or leave you, but I’m sick of having a mopey popstar on my hands.”</p><p>[Niall and Harry try to find a few days in the same city together to catch up on everything they’ve missed from each other’s lives over the last couple of months on hiatus. All of the gaps that lie between the photos and messages and occasional calls.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poached Eggs, Of Course

**Author's Note:**

> Let's pretend, just for a moment, that Niall was already in London when Harry put in his Nixtape request to the Radio 1 Breakfast Show. Because I just want to make everything about this:  
> <http://ladsfm.tumblr.com/post/140851070632/harry-styles-sends-in-a-request-for-the-nixtape>

Niall lands back in LA fitter, tanner and more relaxed than ever, and tries to settle back into normal life, or whatever counts as normal to a popstar on hiatus: having a kick-around with the LA Galaxy, flying to Vegas for UFC fight night, going over to Louis’ house to meet his little lad – which somehow leads to a massive night on the lash, in typical Tommo form. After just a few days, the beaches of southeast Asia vacay is already starting to feel like a distant dream.

He’s hanging out at CBS Studios with James and Ben when a notification pops up on his phone from Nick Grimshaw, which is a little unusual, and almost certainly has something to do with Harry. Niall immediately pulls up the video message to see half of Nick’s enormous head – hair dyed pink, which is new - and Harry curled up next to him on Nick’s couch, arm casually wrapped around Nick’s shoulder. The scene would make almost anyone jealous, if they didn’t know Harry’s relationship with Nick as well as Niall does.

They seem to be passionately singing something, and Niall fumbles with the audio on his phone to unmute it and hear what it is. He is assaulted by some terrible, karaoke-style singing to Justin Bieber. He definitely doesn’t need to be jealous of Nick’s singing voice.

_“Where are you Niall that I need you?  
Where are you Niall?” _

Mercifully, Nick allows Harry to take the lead on the second half of the chorus.

_“Where are you Niall that I need you?  
I need you the most.” _

Even when Harry isn’t really trying, he sings beautifully.

“Where _are_ you Niall Horan?” Nick cuts in loudly over the second verse. “We miss you! And by we, I mean the nation. But this one especially,” he says, poking Harry in the ribs with his free hand. “I mean, I could take you or leave you, but I’m sick of having a mopey popstar on my hands.”

Harry just grins, and rests his head on Nick’s shoulder. 

“Hope to see you soon!” Nick says, as he gets up and starts dancing around his living room, his face now taking up almost all of the frame. “Only 38 days until Coachella. Not that anyone’s counting.” And then the video’s over.

Niall waits until James has finished with his run-through for the night’s show before pulling him and Ben into a huddle and briefing them on what he needs. Ben takes Niall’s phone from him and presses record, zooming in on James’s face as he dramatically tries to channel Adele.

 _“Hello._  
_Can you hear me?”_  
  
Ben pans to Niall, as he takes the next line:

_“I’m in California but I’ll be in London later this week.”_

Niall grins into the camera, then grabs the phone off Ben and hits send.

Harry calls exactly one minute later.

“Are you serious?” he asks, not even bothering to say hello, although Niall can hear Grimmy calling out ‘hiya!’ in the background.

“Deadly,” Niall replies. “Georgia’s throwing a surprise party for Danny on Saturday night, and I thought: why not make this the year of extravagant birthday gestures? Just booked my flight a few hours ago. And if I get to surprise you while I’m at it, well that’s a bonus.”

“It certainly is a surprise,” Harry says. “Because I just booked a flight to LA for Saturday.”

Niall groans. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. I thought you were in London all this month?”

“That was the plan. But some things have come up in LA that I need to take care of.” Harry sighs dramatically. “How long are you going to stay in London?”

“Ugh, I don’t know, a few weeks, I guess. I need to get started on this golfing business.”

“OK, OK,” Harry says. “We can make this work. Maybe I can push my flight back a couple of days.”

Harry manages to change his flight to Sunday, while Niall brings his forward so he lands at Heathrow just before midnight on Thursday. It’s after 2am by the time he gets to Hampstead, but security are expecting him, and they let him into Harry’s house without any questions.

The house is warm and dark and silent, and Niall fumbles his way up the stairs and down the hallway to Harry’s bedroom. He drops his bag on the floor, strips down to his pants, and slips into bed next to Harry.

“Ni, that you?” Harry mumbles. He doesn’t open his eyes, just stretches his arm out and pats the bed until it lands on Niall. “Thought you’d call me when you landed. Was gonna get up.”

Harry is breathing deeply, already sinking back into sleep. Niall reaches out to stroke his hair, and plants a kiss on his forehead. He drifts into sleep just a few moments later, his hand still tangled in Harry’s hair, Harry’s hand resting on his waist.

∞∞∞∞

He wakes in the morning to an empty bed, and a note on the pillow next to him.

_Gone to pilates, back at  nine x_

Niall drags himself out of bed and fumbles around in his bag to find his phone and check the time. 8.45am. He feels like he could sleep all day, but knows he needs to fight the jetlag. After showering, brushing his teeth, and pulling on some joggers and a t-shirt, he heads downstairs in search of Harry. And food. Preferably both.

He finds Harry in the kitchen, still in his workout gear, hair tied back in a bun. He’s whisking eggs to the Radio 1 Breakfast Show playing over the sound system. It’s Nixtape time.

Harry’s face lights up as Niall approaches. He puts the bowl of eggs down and pulls Niall into a tight hug.

“Welcome back,” Harry says. “I had the most beautiful dream that a fit, young Irish lad slipped into my bed last night. And then I woke up this morning, and it had come true.”

“Does that happen to you often?” Niall asks, letting go slightly so he can look Harry in the eye. “Your dreams coming true?”

“All the time,” Harry says, and leans in to kiss Niall, soft and sweet.

“Yeah, me too,” Niall says when they pull apart, both of them smiling stupidly at each other.

Niall is just about to lean in for another kiss when Harry pulls away suddenly, and grabs for something on the kitchen bench. The radio volume goes way up, and Niall tunes into Grimmy nattering away.

_“We’re going to start with a request that’s been sent in by a celebrity listener this morning, Harry Styles.”_

Niall raises an eyebrow at Harry, grinning.

_“Good morning, Harold!”_

_“Oh!” Tina Dahely exclaims._

_“I love that you listened then, like he was going to answer back,” Nick teases the news reader._

_“I know, I just...”_

_“Maybe if we listen carefully, we might be able to hear him,” Nick goes on. “Good morning, Harry!”_

“Good morning, Nick Grimshaw!” Harry calls out to the radio, at almost the same time as Nick says 'good mornin’', in a nasally impression of Harry’s accent.

“That’s not what I sound like!” Harry protests to Niall.

_“There he is, currently making breakfast. What do you think he’s requested, knowing Harry Styles?” Nick asks Tina._

_“Poached eggs!” she answers immediately._

_“Noooo! For a song, not for his breakfast!”_

Everyone in the studio is laughing, and Niall and Harry are laughing too.

_“Also, how do you know what eggs Harry Styles has for breakfast?” Nick teases._

_“I don’t know!” Tina says, defensively._

_“’Poached eggs, of course!’” Nick mocks Tina._

_“I was just guessing!” Tina exclaims._ (Not true, she’s been to brunch with Nick and Harry, and knows exactly how Harry likes his eggs).

_“Harry, who is making breakfast, potentially poached eggs, has requested this, which is a tune,” Nick says, as the intro to a familiar dancehall track starts playing._

It’s a song Niall remembers Harry playing incessantly a few years ago... summer 2012, maybe?

Harry starts singing along to the lyrics as he pulls Niall in close again, and grinds up against him.

 _“Gyal, me wann fi hold yuh,_  
_Put me arms right around ya,_  
_Gyal, you give me the tightest hold_  
_Me eva seen in my life.”_

Harry wrap his arms around Niall’s waist, then sneaks a hand lower to grab at his arse.

Niall is enjoying this. A lot. Maybe a little bit too much for 9.30am on a Friday morning in Harry’s kitchen. But there are too many layers of clothing between the two of them. Niall tugs at Harry’s hoodie until he gets the message and pulls it up over his head, then tosses it over a kitchen stool. Much better, Niall thinks, or maybe says aloud, he’s not quite sure, as he runs his hands over Harry’s slightly damp, sweaty t-shirt, the white fabric so thin that he can trace Harry’s tattoos underneath it.

Niall knows exactly where this is leading, and he doesn’t want to kill the mood. But he also can’t resist any opportunity to Dutty Wine, a dance he taught himself off of YouTube when he was all of 13, figuring it would make for a useful party trick.

“Just a moment,” he says, putting his palm up to Harry’s chest and pushing him away slightly. Harry looks confused. Niall steps back and moves his arms in a wide circle around him, like he’s clearing space on a dancefloor, and then starts flapping his knees and swinging his head around. He tries to keep a straight face, but Harry is doubled over laughing at him, and it doesn’t take much for Niall to start laughing too.

“Wait! Wait!” Harry calls out, gasping for breath. “I’ve got to film this for Nick.”

Harry grabs his phone from the kitchen counter and hits record, trying to hold the phone steady as he continues to shake with laughter.

Niall gives it everything he’s got, whipping his head around in a circle and bobbing his back to build up momentum, then pivoting slowly on his left foot as he moves his right foot around in a wide circle, continuing to toss his head around in a way that threatens whiplash. After one revolution he stops and looks at Harry.

“Got it?”

Harry nods.

Niall takes the phone off him and puts it back on the kitchen counter.

“You can send it to Grimmy later,” Niall says, as he pulls Harry back against him, and starts snaking his hands up under Harry’s t-shirt to feel out the smooth, well-defined muscles on his back. And then Harry’s lips are on Niall’s neck, one hand in Niall’s hair and the other grabbing at his arse again.  Niall can feel them both getting hard as they continue to grind against each other.

The Gyptian song fades into another track, and Harry pushes Niall up against the kitchen counter and starts kissing him for real this time, hot and dirty, tongues licking into each other’s mouths.

They’re both breathing heavily when Harry suggests they take it upstairs.

“I was going to make you breakfast first, but maybe we could...”

“Breakfast can wait,” Niall says, for maybe the first time in his life.

“Orgasms before omelettes?” Harry asks, pulling Niall out of the kitchen.

Niall just laughs, and slaps Harry’s arse as he follows him upstairs.

∞∞∞∞

It’s almost lunchtime when they finally make it back downstairs. Niall is ravenous, but supremely satisfied, having come once in Harry’s hand and once in his mouth. Harry, for his part,  had patiently coached Niall through his first blow job, and Niall felt like he’d done alright for himself, at least judging by how much Harry seemed to enjoy it. He’s always been a quick learner, when he puts his mind to something: guitar, Spanish, Jamaican dance fads, and now blow jobs, it would seem.

Harry debates whether the eggs he was whisking earlier are still OK, but decides to toss them and start from scratch. Tina was right, poached eggs do sound good. Niall tries to lend a hand, but Harry insists he has it all under control, so Niall takes a seat at the kitchen counter and watches as Harry moves confidently around the kitchen, placing a pot of water on the boil, grinding coffee beans for the plunger, gently sauteing tomatoes and mushrooms and spinach.

Of all the times over the past month that Niall had imagined getting naked and getting off with Harry, this was the part he feared the most. The part that comes after. The part where it could all go horribly awkward, as they try to cautiously navigate this new level of intimacy between them. But the weirdest thing is how seamlessly normal it all is. It doesn’t feel like anything much has changed. Niall tells Harry how super-fit he looks, shirtless with shorts slung low on his narrow hips. But Niall’s never had a problem telling Harry he looks good. And Harry can’t help touching Niall at every opportunity, but that’s pretty standard form for Harry too.

When their very late breakfast is ready and plated to satisfaction, Harry snaps a picture of the poached eggs and sends it to Nick: _tell Tina she’s always right!_

And then he remembers to send the video from earlier. Nick sends a string of dancing girl and smiley face emoji back in reply.

Still hungry after the eggs, and trying to stick to the high protein diet that Mark has him on, Harry decides to sear a couple of steaks, and they eat those as a second course to breakfast. Or lunch, depending on how you want to look at it.

Finally full, Niall pulls Harry into the living room and flops down on the couch.

“Don’t want to move for the rest of the afternoon,” Niall says, draping his arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“Neither do I,” Harry says, snuggling into Niall’s neck. “But I have a meeting that I couldn’t get out of.”

Niall groans. “Noooo! Don’t leave me.”

“It’s with the new PR agency. They’re putting out a story tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah? What sort of story?” Niall asks.

“It’s about the movie.”

Niall sits up and turns to look at Harry. “No way, you got it? I mean, I knew you would, but. This is _massive_. Congratulations!”

Harry smiles shyly, and Niall pulls him into a hug.

“We’re still negotiating the contract, but yeah, they offered me the part. And Jeff thinks if we can get some buzz going about being cast, that will give us a stronger hand as we nut out the details.”

Niall grins and shakes his head, like he can’t quite believe this is happening. “I mean, Christopher Nolan! That’s just. WOW.”

“I know, right. It still doesn’t feel real.”

Niall remembers Harry calling him a few weeks ago, just before he went in to read for the role. It must have been late in London, but it was very early in Hanoi, and Niall had slipped out of the room he was sharing with Deo and onto the balcony to take the call.  Dawn light was just starting to sweep over the city as Niall tried to reassure Harry that he would kill it in the audition.  

“Just be your normal, charming self, and I know you’ll impress the pants off the casting agents,” Niall told him. “I mean, not literally, though. You don’t want a reputation for taking it to the casting couch.”

Harry giggled. “The only pants I want to take off are yours.”

By the time Niall hung up the sun had just risen over the city skyline, and Harry sounded far less nervous about the audition the next afternoon. Before crawling back into bed, Niall shot off a message to Jack Whitehall, asking if he was in London, and if he was, could he run some lines with Harry in the morning, and assure him he was ready for the role.

Thinking back further still, Niall remembers when Harry first hired an acting coach in LA last year. He’d sworn Niall to secrecy, knowing that Louis would mock him mercilessly if he found out. And that if Liam knew, he would inevitably tell Louis, which would lead to the same result. Harry had wanted to dip his toe into acting for a while now, and, well, working with one of the most respected directors in Hollywood was one hell of a way to do it.

“Harry, I’m really proud of you,” Niall says, looking him in the eye. “You’re going to be amazing. I have my dreams for both of us. And it kind of feels like they’re all coming true.”

Harry smiles and pulls Niall in for a kiss.

“So, Oscars 2018? If you need a date...” Niall starts to say.

“Hey!” Harry cuts him off. “Who’s getting ahead of themselves now?”

“I mean, of course I would take you,” Harry continues. “Nothing would make me happier than to have you on my arm on the red carpet. But we need to sign the contract first. And then make the film. Make a _good_ film.”

“I’m not saying that _you’ll_ be nominated,” Niall adds. “Probably not for your first film, at least. But there’s gotta be a pretty good chance that the film will get a Best Picture nod.  Most of his other films have, right?”

Harry nods.

“Why don’t we stay in tonight and watch Memento?” Niall says. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen it. But from what I remember, Guy Pearce was pretty hot in it. Maybe that’s where my love for men who cover themselves in ridiculous tattoos started?”

“Hey!” Harry says indignantly, grabbing a cushion off the couch and hitting Niall over the head with it. “Whose tattoos are you calling ridiculous?”

“It was meant to be a compliment!” Niall yelps, batting the cushion away with his hands. “I was trying to say that I love you!”

“Come here,” Harry demands, dropping the cushion and pulling Niall into a hug. “I love you, Niall Horan. Even despite your ridiculous lack of tattoos.”

And then Niall’s fumbling behind Harry for a cushion, and hitting him over the head with it.

∞∞∞∞

They’re back on the couch the next afternoon, still trying to catch up on everything they’ve missed from each other’s lives over the last couple of months. All of the gaps that lie between the photos and messages and occasional calls.

Harry tells Niall about the meetings during Grammys week, and how he still hasn’t decided on a record label and maybe he’ll just record the album he wants to make, and shop it around to labels when it’s finished. It’s not like he needs the money upfront anyway. He just really wants 100% creative control over whatever he makes.  But he might have to put the album on hold now to focus on the movie.

He tells Niall about almost running into Zayn at a party for Irv, and how he turns the radio off any time Pillow Talk comes on, and how he really wants to try to be happy for Zayn, but he’s still really angry at him and doesn’t know how to let it go.

He tells Niall about going over to Liam’s house for dinner with Cheryl and Nick, and how he hadn’t seem Liam this happy in years, and how he never would have picked them as a couple but somehow they’re perfect for each other.

And Niall tells Harry about Melbourne and Bali and Boracay and Vietnam and Thailand. All of the stupid things the lads got up to along the way, Niall laughing too hard to get half of the stories out, and Harry joining him, because Niall’s laugh is just kind of infectious.

It’s already getting dark outside, winter days in London are far too short. Niall knows he should start getting ready for Danny’s party, but Harry’s lying stretched across the couch with his head in Niall’s lap, and he doesn’t want to ever move  from this spot. Harry’s flicking through the photos on Niall’s phone, and pauses over one of them, a classic beach selfie, Niall staring intently into the camera, hair tousled, chin stubbled, and a smattering of chest hair on display.

“Why didn’t you send me this one?” Harry asks, looking up at Niall. “I love this one. I think it’s my favourite.”

“I don’t know,” Niall shrugs, more interested in running his fingers through Harry’s hair than focusing on the phone. “Maybe we didn’t have WiFi while we were there? Can send it to you now, if you like?”

“Nah, let’s post it online,” Harry says, already pulling up Niall’s Instagram app.

“Says he who doesn’t believe in posting selfies!” Niall teases.

“You know I live vicariously through your selfies, Niall.”

“I just want the whole world to see how handsome you are,” Harry adds, looking up at him again with his big green eyes, and Niall knows that he’s never going to be able to say no to him.

“Alright, give it ‘ere,” Niall says, and takes the phone, quickly typing out a caption to the photo.

 _Maya bay ._ Tick.

∞∞∞∞

Niall drops Harry at Heathrow the following evening, and by the time he gets home he already has a string of messages from him.

_Looks like about a million people agree that you look very handsome in that photo._

_(Not that I’m creeping on your Instagram or anything)._

_Thanks for coming to stay with me._

_I had a lot of fun._

_33 days until Coachella!_

_Unless I see you in LA first?_

_Love you (and your ridiculous lack of tattoos) x H_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not on Tumblr but I am on Instagram. Come talk to me there:  
> [super.rich.lads](http://www.instagram.com/super.rich.lads)


End file.
